


Regret to Inform

by peoriapeoria



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Consequences, F/M, Sex, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:04:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That rescue mission wasn't the last time Peggy egged Steve on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret to Inform

Tony looked at the empty bottles sitting on the bar. Impressive. He wondered where the other Avengers were and then he saw the limes. The white pith once-were-limes. "Steve?" 

Steve stood up, apparently uncertain whether to set the bottle down or return it to the cabinet. It joined the other bottles after a moment's dither.

"What's the occasion?" The bad thing was Tony knew both that Steve was responsible for all the dead men, and that he was soberer than many a judge. After he'd been defrosted it had taken an age to get Steve to share a friendly drink. He had strange ideas about waste.

"I had a son."

A son. Then Tony realized, "Had?" What a damning word.

"He's been dead twenty-six years."

Volumes, stacks were in that number. Too young, younger than Tony. Dead longer almost than Steve had been alive, both then and now. 

"He didn't eject."

Tony looked at Steve.

"He died a hero, rode his plane down, no casualties on the ground."

Tony lay his hand over Steve's neck.

"This doesn't help any more than it did after Bucky died." He gestured at the bottles and clasped Tony's hand.

"That's how you knew you couldn't get drunk. You'd tried."

"And failed. Like I failed Bucky. Peggy tried to tell me I hadn't, that Bucky wouldn't... She found me in the bar, one of the bombs had taken it out while we'd been in the Alps."

Tony wondered, had an unexpected moment of discretion.

"Not that night. Bread and cheese, fondue is just bread and cheese."

Normally it was Tony that spouted lines like that. Except his made sense, that couldn't make sense.

"We'd been pouring over intel, all the plans were made, couldn't move quite yet. Peggy had found a wheel of cheese, a loaf of real bread."

She'd told him it would be bad for morale if he stayed underfoot, like he was anxious. He was there so rarely, they were raiding Hydra weeks at a time, he'd bed down on whatever cot was out of the way. Sometimes his debriefs lasted almost longer than he was there, then he didn't sleep at all.

"Someone has to make it seem like Howard's here."

"He's not?" She'd let him into the room. It had been bigger than the bunk room at the orphanage. Peggy hadn't answered the question, just made free with the glassware and cutlery. At least he'd learned not to say just anything. If she was stage dressing it made sense she knew where everything was.

"I saw the newsreel."

He looked up, oh, she looked pleased. It had been a bit of a liberty, and he'd not expected that cameraman to focus on his open compass. Considering, on what else would he have, the map?

"To my my mind he should just be a toddler." He wondered how Peggy had learned, at least she wouldn't have known while he was going down. He couldn't have loved her more while Peggy ordered him to make their rain checked date. It let him hear her voice while he figured out how to crash Schmidt's plane, covered all the things they couldn't say. Too late. He was too late.

So they had eaten bread and cheese in Howard's fake room. He was surprised when she'd stroked his chest. She'd almost done that in Brooklyn. He touched her back. He had taken off his jacket, trying not to get crumbs on it, rolled up his shirt sleeves. He stroked her hair, claimed one of her pins. Peggy had kissed him, fierce and wet and he'd pulled her to him and stood.

They kissed that way, and then he lifted her, she'd wrapped her legs around his waist and they'd kissed some more.

"Peggy." He was wrecked. "Do you?" He never kept his rubbers, he was always handing them out to the Commandos, though once he'd used one to keep a fuse dry. Not something he'd thought about in London.

She had. Of course she had, it was her op. Something had gone wrong though. Not that they knew at the time. What a glorious time. She'd been so beautiful, promising curves. He'd been so relieved when she'd pushed him back down on the bed. Less chance of hurting her, it had taken practice to hold his strength in proper check. Next round.

Turned out that was round three. He got a little concerned as he didn't stay sated. It had to be the serum. Men couldn't live like this. He tried rolling over, feigning sleep but Peggy wasn't having it.

"Permit me to judge what I can handle." The next day confirmed his acquiescence, she wasn't the one walking funny. He didn't think Col. Phillips figured anything out. Steve hadn't made it to the end of the day after that.

He didn't know how she'd met her husband. Her letter, well her letter had hurt, because it pointed out what he had missed, but she'd found a good man to be there, a good father. Healthy pain, clean.

"My grandchildren are older than me." It was his granddaughter Peggy had told, realizing her last day might appear without warning. His granddaughter who had come to tell him he did have family. More family.


End file.
